


Iron Will

by Rheynin



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, BDSM, Bathing/Washing, Bondage, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Play, Eventual Smut, F/M, Female Ejaculation, Fingerfucking, First Time in Love, Flogging, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Massage, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Penis Size, Romantic Fluff, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sex, Shameless Smut, Size Difference, Smut, Spanking, Squirting, Vaginal Fingering, big dick, confusing love, idiot in love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:34:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27644887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rheynin/pseuds/Rheynin
Summary: The first time Bull meets the woman who will become the Inquisitor, he knows she’s something special. Elven, but nearly as tall as him, she’s a formidable warrior and as open and blunt as he is. The more he gets to know her, the more he realizes what he feels is more than friendship or admiration. But Qunari don’t fall in love, right?
Relationships: Dalish/Iron Bull, Female Inquisitor/Iron Bull, The Iron Bull/Lavellan (Dragon Age), The Iron Bull/Original Elvhen Character(s) (Dragon Age)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 72





	1. Unintended

It wasn’t supposed to happen. She was the Inquisitor, the Herald, his boss. Not to mention, he’d been sent to spy on her. He didn’t mix business and pleasure, it never ended happily. But he was damned if he could help himself.

It had started that day on the Storm Coast, when she’d accepted his invitation to come see what the Chargers were all about. Of course she’d shown up in the middle of a battle- he’d practically planned it that way. But what he hadn’t planned on was an elfmaid, nearly as tall as he was, with broad shoulders, a slim body, and a giant sword. Her long braid swung freely as she spun around, killing man after man, her dark skin splashed with blood.

For a minute, Bull thought he might have actually died without realizing it. You don’t see a goddess like that every day.

When the battle was done, she wiped the blood off of her sword and sheathed it at her hip, striding over to him. That was when he really got to take a look at her. Her hair wasn’t just braided, she’d shaved the sides, as well, meaning there was less to get caught. Smart move. Then there were the clear grey eyes, pale, more like silver, sparkling in the sparse patch of sunlight. A swath of scars ran over the left one, three, probably an animal attack, when she was young, and she’d made it out alive, which meant she’d always been tough as shit. She stood with her legs spread, hand resting on her sword, and jerked her chin up once in acknowledgement of him. Clearly a power player.

“The Iron Bull?”

Shit. She had a deep, rich voice, that smoothed over him like silk. 

“Uh, yeah. Drink?”

They talked about his company, about the breach, and the Venatori. He sold like he always did, but the whole time, he felt like maybe it wasn’t the best approach, like she’d already judged them and made up her mind, and was just waiting for a confirmation. Still, he talked up his skill as a bodyguard, figuring it was a safe bet. Clearly, he was huge, and he liked his enemies bigger- it meant more places he could hit. But she only laughed.

“I’ve got men, and I don’t need a bodyguard. I’m more than capable of handling myself. Figured you’d have noticed that much.”

Okay. 

“There’s one more thing. Might be useful, might piss you off.”

So he’d told her the truth. That he was Ben-Hassrath, sent to spy on her, to give the Qun information about the Inquisition. He’d be sending the reports if she let him join, but he’d also be willing to share the ones he got.

That got a smile.

“Welcome to the Inquisition.”

By the time they reached Haven, Bull had already decided he definitely liked her. She didn’t beat around the bush, she pulled her weight, and she wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty. Not only that, but she looked after the people she worked with, not unlike he did. She made sure they were fed, had a decent place to sleep, and, for the most part were happy- or at least as happy as you could be with a gaping hole in the sky hanging over you. The only thing that made him nervous was how handsy she was. Whenever she walked by to check on anyone, there was always a shoulder squeeze, a pat on the back. Physical contact made him nervous, unless all parties involved were naked.

She put him through his paces at Haven, checking and double checking everything. They’d discuss something, and she’d repeat it later, intentionally making a mistake or changing some detail, just to see if he’d catch it. She spoke with him at length about the Qun, both the religion and the culture, and he could tell she was genuinely curious, and not the least bit judgmental. He had to admit, he had quite a few questions about elves, too. Most of the ones he met were former slaves who ran away or had been freed in one way or another. The Qun offered them a better life, and most of the time they didn’t really want to talk about the past. Not that he could blame them.

“Do Qunari have marriage?”

She’d asked him that one afternoon, for some reason, and he’d dreaded giving her the answer. It always lead to weird conversations.

“No. We love our friends, but we don’t have sex with them.”

“You don’t have sex?”

From anyone else, he’d have assumed it was a smart ass comment, and given a sarcastic response. But from her . . . there was a strange sort of innocence to it, in the tilt of her head, the way her brow furrowed.

“No, we definitely have sex. Tamassrans take care of it, like . . . going to a healer or something.”

“Tamassrans?”

“Yeah- the matriarchy. They take care of all that stuff. Decide who does what jobs, who breeds with who- everything.”

“That makes sense.”

“Uh . . . yeah. Most people think it’s kind of strange.”

“We think of things like that as necessities as well. Food, water, shelter, sex, all of it needs attention. Why bother pretending it’s something shameful? But . . . we enjoy emotional connection too. It can make things nicer. Though you don’t need that connection to have good sex, or sex for a wonderful connection with someone. Some elves aren’t interested in sex at all, and we don’t think there’s something wrong with them. Everyone is different.”

She’d turned and walked away, and his eyes had followed her, taking in her purposeful stride. She was . . . unique, definitely. Not exactly a puzzle, because she was far too straightforward to be anything like that. Maybe that’s why being around her was so refreshing, like a cool rain after a bloody battle, washing everything else away. Most people layered themselves in half truths and comforting lies- but not her. She faced everything head on, and never blinked.

After a week in the Hinterlands, he realized he’d never been happier. Hell, he wasn’t sure he’d ever actually been HAPPY before. There was always a good high after winning a battle, and he enjoyed drinking, fighting, and having sex, but if you’d asked him if he was happy, he’d probably have just stared at you. The closest he ever got to happiness was being pleased with the results of a plan, or proud of his men. But there, with her, kicking ass and helping people who needed it, he felt it, bubbling up inside of him like a bad stew. He watched her take down those demonic wolves in the forest, and he realized that, if was allowed to, he could do this every. damn. day.

He was watching her go through some exercises with Cullen and the troops when Krem came up to him.

“So, chief . . . you making your move or what?”

“What?”

“Come on . . . we’ve all seen the way you look at her. Just admit it, you’ve got something for her.”

Bull had focused his eye on a Krem, giving him a hard look.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. She’s my boss. She’s a great fighter, and I have a lot of respect for her. But I’m only gonna say this once- I don’t mix business and pleasure. And I don’t ‘have something’ for her.”

Krem held up his hands, backing away. “Alright, fine. I get it, you’re not interested. So I won’t bother telling you that she’s been asking about you.”

Bull watched Krem return to his post near the gates, wondering why he had such a strange feeling in his stomach, and why, suddenly, he wanted to sit Krem down and have him repeat every question she’d asked. As long as she was pleased with the job he was doing, what did it matter what else she wanted to know? And why did he want so badly to know what her hair smelled like, or whether she wore smalls beneath her thin tunic and leathers?

That night, he found the three hottest redheads he could, and let them spend the night bouncing on his cock and his face, expecting to feel better in the morning. But he didn’t. He felt oddly cold and empty, like it didn’t matter at all. They were HOT, and they had spent the night practically worshipping his talents. All three. But it didn’t even matter to him.

What the hell?


	2. A Long Bath

After the shitstorm in Val Royeaux, Bull was surprised that she wanted to use the Templars to help close the breach. Not that he’d have preferred the Mages, but at least they hadn’t outright insulted the Inquisition. The guy had been to total dick when they’d met him, even punched the Chantry sister. Not that she hadn’t deserved it. When he heard the shit she was saying to the Herald, he’d been ready to deck her himself. The difference was, HE wasn’t the one who was supposed to be working for the Chantry.

Still, she’d walked over, offering the sister a hand, and spoke to her like the woman hadn’t just called her all sorts of insulting names. She’d been downright KIND, and when she asked her if she really was the Herald, she’d just shrugged and told her that all she knew was that something needed doing, and she was going to do it. Then she’d turned and left. They’d picked up Sera, who he liked, and Vivienne, who, well, he didn’t necessarily like, but he respected.

And all the while, he kept getting this strange feeling inside of him. Sometimes it was warm and golden, burning through his veins while he watched her tend to the injured and say her prayers over the dead. Other times, cold and silver, like ice in the pit of his stomach. It had been that way the time he’d walked up on her bathing in the river. 

Normally, they all went together, none of them shy, but stayed minimally dressed and thoroughly occupied with their own wash. This time, though, they’d just fought their first dragon. She’d been impressive, even by his standards, taunting and hacking away, until the beast could do no more than gurgle weak fireballs at them. When they’d finished it off, the first thing she did was cut away a great swath of hide- perfect for some armor she’d been working on, she said. It had taken ages, and she’d broken three daggers in the process. Then she’d joined the others where they were celebrating, and they’d all stopped to stare. She was covered in dragon blood, soaked to the skin.

Bull wasn’t sure if it was the way she’d fought or the smell of the dragon’s blood filling his nostrils, but he couldn’t take his eyes off her. When she slipped away to wash, he followed. He had no plan, no reason behind it, he just felt pulled towards her. Drink had made him less than certain of his directions, so by the time he stumbled on the river, she’d already started. He opened his mouth to shout some congratulations, or maybe ask her if she needed anything, but the sight in front him silenced him before he began.

There she stood, utterly naked.

It made perfect sense. Her clothes were coated with blood, she’d need to change. Putting anything new on top of her sticky skin would just ruin more clothes, and she could wash the ones she had been wearing better if they were off.

He knew damn well, even as drunk as he was, that the polite thing to do was turn around and walk away. But he couldn’t. 

She ducked her head beneath the water, and he was mesmerized at the way it dripped from her hair, trailing down the long line of her spine. Her strong arms reached to push the stray hairs from her face, the muscles of her broad shoulders flexing in a way that had Bull palming himself through the thin pants he wore. And when she turned to undo her braid, he saw the pert outline of her breasts, nipples hardened by the cool night air.

He leaned against a tree, suddenly dizzy, his chest heaving. He’d seen countless naked women- Human, Dwarf, Elf, Qunari- and not one had ever made him feel like this. Like he couldn’t breathe. Like he’d give anything to just touch her.

And then she called his name.

He wasn’t sure he’d heard her right, at first. Maybe he’d been imagining things. But then she turned around, her eyes locked on his form, and called him again. He shook his head, trying to clear it, and stepped towards her.

“Yeah boss?”

“Come help me. I don’t want to leave behind any of this blood.”

He staggered towards her, half in a daze. She’d made no motion to cover herself or hide beneath the water, instead standing boldly in front of him, as confident as she was when clothed. She’d resumed washing, but spoke as he approached the edge of the water.

“Better remove your boots, at least. They take forever to dry. But you’re welcome to undress, if you like.”

He kicked off his boots, but hesitated for a moment as he reached for the front of his pants. Why? He’d never cared before. Usually, he was the first undressed in these kinds of situations. And shock had made the hard bulge he’d been sporting earlier deflate. Mostly.

Finally his utter frustration at himself caused him to jerk his pants off quickly and plunge into the water. As he approached her, his nostrils began to twitch. Okay, the dragon blood definitely had a hand in this. Maybe once he’d helped her get rid of it, he’d be back to his old self. 

She’d undone her braid as he’d been fighting with himself, and now her hair trailed down her back in a long sheet, nearly reaching her hips. Her muscles were thicker than he’d thought, she was nearly built like a Qunari, but with a lithe elegance about her as well. His hands longed to run across those muscles, slick with oil, squeezing the tension from her body. 

“Would you do my hair? I can’t see well enough to get it thoroughly.”

“Uh . . . yeah. Sure.”

His hands moved to her head, thick fingers massaging her scalp to loosen any dirt. It would have been better with soap, but that was a luxury they saved for Haven. Still, he worked carefully, making sure to cover every inch while she let out soft moans of pleasure that made his cock twitch eagerly. When he was done, she dipped below the water again, sighing happily as she emerged.

“You’re excellent with your hands, Bull. I should have you wash my hair all the time.”

He half-heartedly chuckled, a crooked smile on his face. Then she turned her back to him again, drawing her hair over her shoulder. There was a network of scars there, crisscrossing in random patterns, lengths, and depths. Before he realized what he was doing, he was trailing his fingertips across the largest.

“Bear,” she said, matter of fact. “About ten years ago. I was stupid, let him get me to the ground. But I still took the bastard out.”

“By yourself?”

“Of course.”

“Damn. Impressive.”

She gave him a curt nod, and he resumed his ministrations on her back, lifting the water in his palm to run over it, then wiping away any remnants of blood. Truthfully, it had been pretty clean to start with, but Bull couldn’t resist stringing the process out a little. He’d never had the opportunity to be so close to her before, to lay his hands on her the way he was. Little fantasies began to play through his head, and, to his great surprise, they had little to do with sex at all. Oh, he wanted her alright, his body had told him that a long time ago. But what he thought about, what he wanted to do right now, was hold her. He wanted to wrap his arms around her waist and pull her against his chest, feel those tense back muscles relax against him. Maybe she would place her hands over his, and he could rest his chin on her shoulder, humming a soft song as they swayed in the moonlight together, until her eyes closed sleepily. And then, then he could whisper in Qunlat all of the things he felt for her, to tell her but not have her KNOW, so that he would never have to face the prospect of losing his heart.

Suddenly she turned to face him, and he realized that while he’d been thinking, his hands had stilled. She must have thought he was finished. He assumed she would thank him, then move to get dressed, leaving him alone with his thoughts, but she didn’t. Instead, she instructed him to turn.

“You’re already here, might as well get a good wash yourself.”

Then her hands were on him, scrubbing the dirt and blood from his muscles. For all their roughness, to him they may as well have been the finest silk. The longer they worked against him, the more difficult it was to contain the growls of pleasure that wanted to escape him, her every touch making him crave more.

“It’s a pity you have no hair,” she rasped in that velvet voice he loved, “I’d like to return the favor.”

Then she ducked beneath his arm, moving to stand in front of him, and began working on the front of his body. Her hands cupped his face, cleaning the heavy stubble of his beard, before slipping down to his chest. There, she flattened her hands across it, her fingers spread wide. With his eyes locked on her face, she smiled softly for the first time he’d ever seen.

“I’m large for an elf, and I’d never met a Qunari before you, so I’m used to being the biggest one in any group. Yet you make me look almost small.”

Her hands smoothed the muscles of his chest, exploring, as he drew in a trembling breath. She kept moving, fascinated, farther and farther down. He wasn’t sure where this was going, and he wasn’t sure where he wanted it to go, he only knew that, if she kept going, his heart might burst from the tension of it.

“I’ve heard other races have body hair, though elves do not,” she said as her hands slid across the taut muscles of his abdomen. “Do Qunari not as well?”

He sucked in a sharp breath as her fingers trailed along the deep v at his hips, ready to stop her even if he wanted her to keep going, but he never got the chance. She’d found the soft patch of curls at his pelvis, her eyes wide with the excitement of discovery, and began to dig her fingers in. They circled slowly against the sensitive mound, each inch lower drawing a stuttered breath from him. She was far too absorbed in her exploration to realize the effect it was having on him, the way his breathing was faster, heavier, or the way his eyes closed as she neared the stiffening rod of his cock.

Then suddenly her fingertips found the base of it, and she jerked her hand away. Bull’s eyes flew open as he realized what had happened, and he hated himself. He should have stopped her, he should have warned her. Now she was going to think he was some kind of pervert- which, really, he was, but NOT THAT KIND- and she’d send him away.

“Listen, Boss, I-“

“I’m so sorry, Bull. I didn’t mean-“

“-not that kind-“

“I shouldn’t have-“

“You were just-“

They both stopped, staring at each other for a few moments before she spoke again.

“I apologize, Bull. I let my curiosity overstep your personal boundaries.”

He shook his head. “It’s alright, Boss. I’m not really one to have boundaries, not physically, anyway. I just don’t want you to get the wrong impression.”

“What impression would that be?”

“Well . . . that you . . . that I . . ,” Bull stuttered, angry at himself for it. He was NOT the kind to be unsure of himself.

“I understand. You don’t want me to think you find me attractive.”

She turned, walking onto the bank to begin drying herself, and Bull got a full view of her naked body for the first time. He wouldn’t have thought it was possible, but she was even more beautiful than he’d thought. Firm, well developed muscles, perfectly smooth skin marked by the scars of battle, and, yes, entirely devoid of body hair. It wasn’t something he would have guessed he’d find attractive, but seeing that bare patch between her legs did something to him. Nothing hidden, her slit in full view, letting him see the beautiful way her inner lips peeked out, slightly larger than the outer lips, just below the soft bud of her clit. For a moment, he was seized with the urge to charge her, knock her onto her back and plunge his face between her legs.

Then he realized what she’d said.

He tore out of the water as quickly as he could, grabbing ahold of her arm. As he stood there before her, hard, dripping wet from the river, he cupped her face in one hand. There was a heavy sadness in her eyes, unlike any he’d ever seen, and, as much as he hated it, it gave him a sliver of hope, too.

Maybe he wasn’t the only one feeling something.

“I definitely find you attractive.”

It fell out of his mouth, the first thing he could think to say. When he saw a smile twitch at the corner of her mouth, he just kept going.

“You’re practically fucking perfect, Boss. You’ve got everything going for you, everything I could possibly want. It’s just . . . you’re the Boss, and I . . . .”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “I see where you’re going.”

She pulled on a long, loose tunic, tossing the towel at his chest as she gathered her clothes. 

“It’s too bad though,” she said as she reached the edge of the woods, “because I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how much I’d like to ride the Bull.”

Bull practically choked as he watched her disappear into the forest. This was going to take a lot more than just jerking off a few times to get over.


	3. Found and Lost

“She actually said that? She used the idiotic term you’ve always used to get women in bed, without you saying something first?”

“Yeah, Krem. She did.”

“And you didn’t take her then and there?”

“No, Krem. I didn’t.”

“I dunno, Chief,” Krem took a swig from the mug in his hand. “Sounds like you’re losing your edge.”

“Thanks, Krem.”

Bull frowned down into his mug. He didn’t think he’d ever been more miserable. Two weeks later, and they still hadn’t talked about what had happened. At first, he didn’t think he wanted to. Talking about it meant acknowledging it, and that meant these feelings swirling inside of him were real, not just the side effect of a bad meal or too much drink. But she’d kept LOOKING at him. Not shy glances that withered into blushes the moment he looked back, or even hungry stares that asked him to bed. Instead they were open, watchful looks, taking in the way he moved, how he carried himself. 

“Look, why don’t you just talk to her? Either she fancies you so you can stop moping about, or she doesn’t, and we can go kill something.”

“It’s not that simple. Not this time.”

Krem threw his hands up and walked away, leaving Bull alone.

The truth was, he was scared. He’d never had to deal with feelings like this, ones that threatened to completely engulf him. But then, he’d never met anyone like her before, either. Normally, if he was attracted to someone, it was an easy process. He read people for a living, after all, so he knew when he could just walk up, tell them they had a great ass, and invite them to his room, or when more sweet talk was necessary. Then, after a night or two, maybe more, he went on his way, and didn’t think about them again, unless it was a REALLY good night or two.

But he couldn’t do that here. It wasn’t her- he had no doubt she’d respond to either approach, and happily. But was that what he wanted? A few nights of passion, then, when all of this was settled, to never see her again? Never hear that silk and velvet voice, or see those strong arms?

Bull pushed his stool away from the counter, standing. He left a few coins on the counter, then sighed as he headed towards the door. Maybe tomorrow things would be a little more clear. As he ducked through the doorway, a figure bumped into his chest. His heart began pounding as he realized exactly who it was.

Her.

His mouth felt dry, and his hands opened and closed at his sides while his brain tried to come up with something to say. In the end, it didn’t matter.

“Bull- I was looking for you.” She stepped back, waiting for him to exit the rest of the way. “Can we talk?”

“Sure, Boss. What’s on your mind?”

They walked in silence to the edge of the frosty wood, where she stopped to lean against a tree. Her eyes met his, studying him for a moment. Then she folded her arms across her chest.

“You are. I want to know what happened with you that night we were bathing, and I want to know why.”

Bull drew in a deep breath. “Which part do you mean?”

Her brow furrowed. “Probably the part where you said you found me attractive, but I was the boss. Because you had no problem following me to watch me bathe, or helping me wash.”

“You knew I followed you?”

Her ears twitched slightly as she tapped them. “Elf, remember? Great eyes, better hearing. Besides, you were half drunk barreling through the woods. How could I not know you followed me?”

“Right.” Bull sagged slightly. “Truth is- I don’t know. I don’t know why I followed you, I don’t know why I let things go the way they did. Something about you just GETS me, and I don’t get that either. I just know that, whatever’s going on, we can’t afford it.”

“Why’s that, Bull?”

Shit. Was this another test? He got the feeling there was an answer she was looking for, only one that was true. Problem was, he wasn’t sure what that was.

“Look at you, look at me. We’re not exactly in it for the long haul. You just sealed the giant hole in the sky. Soon enough, this’ll all be over, and we’ll head home. You’re too strong willed to live under the Qun- part of why I like you, by the way- and I’m damn sure not gonna go traipsing around with elves. Not to mention we’ve both got a habit of pissing off people that want to make us dead.”

Her cool eyes met his, and, for a minute, he felt his resolve wavering. Then she gave him that curt nod of hers.

“Right.”

She held out her hand to him, and he shook it firmly. She had a hell of a grip. With his hand still in hers, she looked at him again.

“To pressing onward. To hell with feelings.”

Pulling her hand out of his grip, she turned to walk away. Suddenly Bull felt like he’d made the biggest mistake of his life. Everything he’d said was true, but the idea of moving on, pretending there was nothing- he couldn’t do it. He might make a living out of telling lies, but he wanted none between them.

He reached to grab her arm- and alarm bells began clanging throughout the night, a dark, sick echo breaking the pleasant sounds of celebration. She broke into a sprint, headed towards the gates, and he was hot on her heels.

The next few hours were pure chaos. Smoke, screaming, fighting- and the ever present stench of blood filling the air. He never left her side, not once during all of it, even when they had no hope left. When they went to distract that asshole, Corypheus, he figured he’d be dying beside her. But then came that fucking dragon.

When she disappeared behind it, he did everything he could to get to her. He roared, he hacked, he even tried climbing over the damn thing, until Varric and Dorian had drug him away. There was nothing they could do, they said, so there was no point dying alongside her. Best to go help the others. 

Not for him. They didn’t understand.

If he couldn’t save her, if he couldn’t protect her, he’d rather die beside her. Then, at least, he wouldn’t have to live with the guilt. With the knowledge that he’d pushed her away, when everything inside of him had told him to do just the opposite.

The moment the rocks fell on Haven, something tore inside of him.

“She might have found a way to escape,” Dorian suggested as they trudged through the snow.

“Yeah,” Bull responded, voice barely audible. “Sure.”

He did what he had to, what he knew was expected of him. He helped move the heavy things, he cleared paths in the snow when it was too deep. But inside of him, he felt limp and lifeless. A cold isolation had crept in, and it made the snow seem like a fluffy blanket.

The perfect woman. A goddess, beautiful, raging, and kind. And he’d let her go.

Now he would never see her again.

None of the Chargers tried to cheer him up, they knew him well enough to know it wouldn’t do any good. Under other circumstances, Krem might have slipped him a few bottles of something REALLY strong, but right now he needed his wits about him. Anything else was too dangerous, for everyone.

He knew he wasn’t the only one missing her. She had been the Herald, after all, she was important to everyone. Her reassurances, the subtle touches, the way she wanted to make sure everyone was taken care of, all of it left a hole in the Inquisition. The advisors were worried, no matter how hard they tried not to show it. Hundreds of people, wandering around in the snow with no clear destination? Why wouldn’t they be? Varric wasn’t even spinning the usual tales, trying to take everyone’s minds off of things. He’d probably been the closest one to her, the friend she went to with everything. They had a strange understanding between the two of them, one he now realized he’d been a little jealous of. Such easy banter, flirting like they were crazy about each other- which was probably easy because they weren’t.

Hadn’t been, he reminded himself. Past tense.

He couldn’t believe it was real, the day she returned. Wandering up to camp, half frozen in her armor, then collapsing. He saw it all from across camp, but he couldn’t make his legs move. His brain just kept telling him it wasn’t really her, it was an illusion or hallucination of some kind. By the time he’d put everything together, Cullen and Cassandra had swept her up, carrying her over to the healers, and he’d done nothing.

He didn’t visit her, but he listened. She was unconscious, bordering on hypothermia, but she would probably live. The delicate ear tissue was at risk, though, not meant to be so cold for so long. Without input from Solas, she’d have already lost most of the tips. Her toes were safe. There were a couple of fingers they were worried about, but they were taking great care to preserve them, wrapping them carefully and treating them with warm soaks.

He’d wanted her to come back. More than once, he’d told himself he’d do anything, give up anything to get a second chance, to undo what he’d done before the fight. And now she was here, and he was more afraid than ever.

“Talk to her, Chief,” Krem had urged him once she regained consciousness. She still wasn’t allowed up and walking around, but she was out of danger. 

He refused.

“You moped for days when you thought she was dead. I’ve never seen you so down. Now she’s here. Talk to her.”

He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. When she’d been gone, his thoughts had turned towards the certainty that she cared for him as much as he did her. What if he was wrong? Maybe she’d agreed to not try at all because he didn’t mean that much to her. That’d be worse than death. 

So he avoided her, instead. He listened out to see how she was doing, and breathed a sigh of relief when he heard she would be alright. But even when she was allowed up, he didn’t talk to her, only watched from across camp, and saw her watching him the same way. But she didn’t approach him either, not even when they got to Skyhold.

There, she busied herself with the business of restoring the place, making it secure enough to lead the Inquisition from. She’d been named Inquisitor the moment they reached the place, of course, since she’d been leading anyway. He watched her from a distant corner of the crowd, pride swelling in his chest as she raised her sword, swearing to protect the others. Then she looked down at him, her jaw still set in that determined way, but there was sadness in her eyes, and shame settled in his stomach. But he still didn’t talk to her.

Things moved forward, and they started traveling again, closing leftover rifts and trying to find any damn information they could that would help them defeat Corypheus. They spoke, but distantly, not as close as they had once been. Dorian and Varric watched them, full of concern. Though Krem was the only one who’d guessed Bull’s feelings, it was clear to everyone that a gulf had opened between them. They’d gone, seemingly overnight, from playful banter to dark silence, loaded with tension. 

The last few days they were out, Varric and Dorian decided to share a tent, to try and force them to speak to each other again. The results were far less than they’d hoped. Oh, they shared a tent. It was far too rainy to do anything else. But they crawled inside without speaking, and it was clear from the shadows they were sleeping back to back, refusing to even face each other. Those were miserable nights for Bull, the tent filled with her soft, earthy smell, her warmth beside him, but mentally, they were far apart. He could have changed it, he knew. If he’d just speak to her, they could resume their friendship. But friendship wasn’t what he wanted anymore. He wanted HER, completely. Her body, her breath, her heart. 

This was entirely new territory. He’d told her- Qunari don’t marry, they don’t fall in love. Not like this. This was . . . dangerous. If he were back home, he’d be sent to the re-educators. Mixing sex and love, business and pleasure- it was wrong, it lead to complications. He’d been taught that from the time he was born.

But he wasn’t at home, and, right now, he wasn’t exactly under the watchful eyes of the Tamassrans. And she was so unlike anyone else he’d ever met. Wrong or right, these feelings were his.

He watched her for exactly three days after they returned to Skyhold, while he tried his best to sort everything out. Sex wasn’t just okay, it was a normal, necessary thing, they’d agreed on that long ago. Friendship was fine, obviously. And he could love his friends. Maybe it wasn’t customary to have sex with your friends, but these weren’t exactly normal circumstances, were they? He knew he could trust her, and he needed someone he could trust. So did she, for that matter. He’d been keeping his eye on her long enough to know that sex was a need she wasn’t getting filled lately, and the stress of the Inquisition’s demands was getting to her. He could help with that.

That was how he managed to be sitting in her chambers, on her bed, waiting for her to come back. She’d be here as soon as they’d finished in the war room, he was certain of that. She always came, to clear her head and relax. Usually, that involved standing on the balcony with her eyes closed, taking in the cool, clean air. Today, well, he hoped for something a little different.

He barely heard her coming up the stairs, with those damned quiet elven feet, so that he could take up a casual position before she saw him. As soon as her head was visible, she started talking.

“Hello Bull. I hope you weren’t expecting to startle me- you breath just like your namesake.”

“No, I wasn’t. I . . ,” he paused to breathe in, then turned to look into her eyes. “I wanted to talk to you. About what happened before, back at Haven.”

She folded her arms over her chest, waiting. Slowly, he stood, raising himself to his full height before stepping in front of her and putting his hands on the backs of her arms.

“I take it back.”

She just stared at him.

“I don’t want to push on and pretend there’s nothing here. There is, and we both know it. Maybe it can’t be exactly what we want, but . . . .”

She inhaled deeply, sighing.

“So what’s different? Why now?”

Another test. He was getting used to those, better at recognizing the tone of voice she used when that was what she was doing.

“Well to start with, clearly this whole thing isn’t as over as I’d thought.” 

He smiled wryly, but she gave no response. Clearly not the right thing to say. Okay. He could do this. 

He took a deep breath.

“I though you were dead. But even before that, I’d realized it wasn’t what I’d wanted. I regretted it the instant it came out.”

She raised an eyebrow, just slightly. Okay, he was doing better.

“I like you. I want to spend time with you, get to know you. Intimately, if you’re up for it.”

A smile twitched at the corner of her mouth.

“You and I- we’re different than most people. We talk straight, say what we mean. And when we go after something, it’s because we’re absolutely certain it’s what we want.”

He placed a finger under her chin, tilting it up slightly as he lowered his face toward hers.

“You are what I want.”


	4. Leather and Rope

She grasped the back of his head with surprising strength, crashing his mouth against hers. It was very rarely that someone caught him off guard, but this was definitely one of those times. At first, his hands were just held out beside him. Then his body and brain caught up, and his hands gripped her hips. For being so strong, she was much smaller than he’d expected, his hands almost completely circling her waist. Incredibly light, too, he found when she jumped to wrap her legs around his waist. He could have held her up with one hand, a fact he filed away for future use. And she kissed him like she was devouring him.

“Damn,” he breathed when they finally broke apart. “That’s some mouth.”

“Shut up and kiss me, idiot.”

Smiling against her mouth, he replied, “Can do.”

As he held her weight against him, her hands roamed any and everywhere she could reach, from clutching the back of his head, to sliding along the length of his horns, to clawing at his back as he pushed her against the wall. Then, suddenly, one hand was around her wrists, pinning them above her head. He studied her face, her wild, searching eyes as she panted, her legs gripping tighter around his waist. She was trying to hold her weight up with her arms, muscles pulled tight, and that was the exact opposite of what he wanted.

He leaned in, breathing hot on her throat as his mouth traced her neck. With her chest heaving against his, he whispered in her ear.

“Trust me.”

As she let her muscles relax, he let go of her wrists, only holding her up by the pressure of his body on hers and one large palm beneath her. Then, slowly, he moved away from her body. Her legs were still thrown over his hips, her hands resting atop his shoulders, but, little by little, she trusted her weight to his hand.

“There we go. Nice, right?” She nodded. “Just let go, and trust me.”

As he spoke, his free hand slipped beneath her shirt, thick fingers delicately exploring her curves, the lines of her muscles. As he reached the subtle swell of her breast, he heard a sharp intake of breath. Her muscles began to tense again, and his eyes flicked over to her face. She was enjoying it, but nervous, too.

“You don’t get touched this way often, do you?”

She shook her head. “No. It’s been . . . a very long time.”

His fingers teased at her nipple, drawing soft panting gasps he relished, as he sucked a dark mark against her neck. Then, as slowly as he possibly could, he lifted her shirt, pulling it over her head with the hand not holding her up. As he’d expected, she didn’t show the slightest sign of embarrassment or modesty as he took her in, admiring her form in full light for the first time. He felt a hot rush of blood to his cock, his mouth watering as he thought of all the ways he could please her.

“What a shame,” he sighed, both hands beneath her now. “A body like this . . . it deserves to be worshipped.”

He moved swiftly to deposit her on the bed, his body hovering over hers for just a moment. Then his tongue was on her, tracing the soft mound of her breast while she sighed in pleasure. He took his time, working from one to the other, tracing slowly inward until her nipples were dark, stiff peaks. Groaning loudly at the taste of her skin, he wrapped his lips around the entirety of her breast, his tongue circling over and over. As her back arched beneath him at the incredible sensation, she rasped out his name.

“You sound so damn good, saying my name like that.”

She panted above him as his hand inched downward.

“I’ll . . . sound . . . much better . . . when I’m . . . screaming it.”

He stroked his thumb against the front of her trousers, with just enough pressure to tease her, but not enough to satisfy, and she let out a sharp, desperate cry. Instead of giving in, he circled, lightening the pressure each time, until he was just barely touching her, and she was nearly whimpering with desire.

That was just where he wanted her.

He stood up, reaching into the bag beside the bed, where he’d stored a few essential items, just in case this went his way. When he pulled out a pair of leather cuffs and some rope, her eyes widened.

“You trust me, right?” He whispered as he reached to place the cuffs around her wrists, and she nodded. Soon, her arms were once again over her head, this time bound to each side of the headboard. She had enough slack to slightly bend or straighten them, but couldn’t reach to touch anything but the sheets beneath her.

He stood back, admiring her.

“I wish you could see how good you look, tied up like this.”

A smirk twisted her lips.

“I think I have an idea.”

Her eyes darted to the bulge at the front of his pants, and a wicked grin spread across his face.

“This?” He mocked, sliding his hand against it a few times, then unbuckling his belt. He lowered his pants just enough to pull out his cock, letting her get a good long look as he stroked himself a few times. “This is all for you. But not yet.”

He tucked himself away again, moving to the foot of the bed. Her eyes were locked on him, waiting for his next move. He stood still, letting her writhe in anticipation, before finally grabbing the top of her pants and jerking them off of her legs in one swift motion. Then he kneeled on the bed in front of her, placing his hands on the inside of her knees and spreading her legs as wide apart as they could comfortably go. A deep groan rattled from inside his chest as he took in the sight before him. Smooth and bare, just like he remembered, and even more beautiful now, spread wide, glistening, and swollen with arousal. Achingly slowly, he traced a finger along the slick ruffles of her inner lips.

“Your pussy,” he whispered breathlessly as he leaned forward, “is the most perfect pussy I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

With that hanging in the air, he went about the serious work of teasing her into a frenzy, fingers and tongue caressing and lapping against every spot between her waist and ankles except the one she wanted him most. Time and time again, he would circle, drawing close enough to brush lightly against it, then move away again, until she was moaning desperately, too worked up to even tell him how much she wanted the orgasm he was denying her.

She was frustrated almost to the point of tears before his body fell on top of hers, hands reaching up to remove the cuffs. He kissed her hungrily, across her chest, her throat, and her mouth, as she wrapped her arms around his neck. She thought that, finally, she’d get what she wanted.

She was wrong.

Instead, he flipped her over the edge of the bed, holding her down with one large hand in the center of her back. The other rubbed her ass slowly, caressing and massaging it- until there was a brief pause. The next thing she knew there was a soft stinging sensation as he brought a flogger down on her skin. He wielded it with expert precision as he struck her again and again, changing the angle, the intensity, until she was making almost inhuman sounds. Then, just as suddenly as they’d began, they stopped. There was a soft thud as the flogger fell to the floor, and both of his hands were on her, soothing the bright red skin.

“Good girl,” he intoned, voice deep and silken. “So good, taking your punishment like that. All the teasing, the pain . . . you’ve earned a nice reward.”

She heard his buckle again, and the soft rustling of fabric, but she didn’t move. She didn’t dare, and, even if she’d wanted to, she wasn’t sure she could have. Bull had made her feel like jelly, wiping away every ounce of tension she’d been carrying. All she could do now was bend to his whim.

She felt him kneel behind her, the warmth of his bare legs against hers, and then something impossibly thick and firm pressing against the hot swell between her legs. A groan fell unbidden from her lips as his hips rocked against her, spreading her wetness along the length of his cock. She almost cried out at the loss of contact when he backed away, until his finger began pressing at her opening.

“Damn,” he breathed, panting with the effort of controlling himself. “It HAS been a while. Don’t think I’m gonna fit.”

She nodded, moving to stretch on her back on the bed. Bull followed her immediately, moving to lay on top of her. There was a look of deep frustration on her face as she lay on the verge of tears, and he kissed her slowly and tenderly.

“Hey, hey,” he forced her to look into his eyes. “I said I wouldn’t fit, I didn’t say I wasn’t going to take care of you. This,” he paused to kiss along her chest, nuzzling at her nipples and slipping a finger down between her legs, “is all about you.”

He started stroking her slowly and gently, circling her clit as he planted soft kisses against her skin. Before long, she’d relaxed again, soft sighs of pleasure coming from her as she rubbed the back his arm. All the while, he praised her, telling her how beautiful she looked, how much he loved her sounds. As the tension in her body began building, she gripped him tightly.

“I want you, Bull,” she groaned, her hips working against the rhythm of his hand. “I want to feel you inside of me.”

“Shh. You will, I promise. We’ll get there. But for now,” he spoke, voice rumbling deep against her ear, “for now, just enjoy the ride.”

His fingers moved faster, until she threw her head back, back arching as she screamed his name. Her orgasm rushed over her like a tidal wave, rising higher all the while as he kept a steady rhythm between her legs. She was gorgeous like this, he decided, and he was going to do everything he could to see her this way as often as possible. 

When the last tremors had left her body boneless and satisfied, he curled his arms around her, drawing her body against his chest. He was surprised at the warmth he felt when she nuzzled against him, and the happiness he felt beside her. Just to hold her was enough, to know that he’d pleased her, and that she wanted him the same way he wanted her.

They lay twined together for some time, the cool air brushing gently over their naked bodies, until Bull cleared his throat.

“I, uh . . . I guess I ought to leave, let you get back to work.”

Her eyes were closed, and she made no sound except for the quiet purr of her breathing, so he assumed she was asleep. When he went to pull his arm out from under her, however, he found her hand suddenly on the back of his neck, pulling him back towards her.

“Don’t you dare, Bull. You’re staying right here, until I say otherwise.”

A soft smile played on his lips as he reached down to draw the sheet over them.

“Sure thing, Boss,” he grinned, laying back down beside her. “Whatever you say.”

She tucked herself against his side, throwing her arm across his chest, and he thought that, just maybe, he’d never been happier.


	5. Conversations

“I’d like to talk to you. Privately.”

“Sure thing, Boss.”

Bull stood with a cocky grin on his lips, watching Krem try to hide his laughter as he followed the Inquisitor out the door and up the stone staircase to the battlements. It was a nice view, he thought, especially as they climbed the stairs. But when they reached the top, the grin fell from his face. She stood before him with her arms crossed, brow furrowed, and mouth pulled into a frown.

“Something the matter?”

“What was it? What happened between us?”

Despite her tough stance, there was a sense vulnerability clear in her eyes, worried it wasn’t what she thought, or what she’d hoped for. He couldn’t blame her there. He’d run hot and cold on her from the minute he’d seen her, not even sure what he’d wanted. Now though? Everything was clear. Unfortunately, before he could reassure her, she continued.

“I’m not blind, and not deaf. I know your reputation. I’d like to know where we stand.”

He put his hands on her arms, ducking to look into her eyes.

“As long as this continues, I’m focused entirely on you. As far as where we stand- that’s up to you. We can call it off, if you like, or continue as we are, no strings attached. Just me, helping take the weight off of your shoulders.”

“Are those the only options? What if I want more than that?”

“Then we’ll be more. And I’ll be very, very happy.”

He wrapped an arm around her waist, his hand spread across her back, then tilted her chin up with a finger. Those damn silver eyes of hers, beautiful and bizarre, would be forever burned into his memory. 

“I meant what I said when I told you that you’re what I want. If you’re not interested, or you want to stop, now or any other time, I’ll leave you alone, and I promise I won’t hold it against you. But if you’re asking me if I’m interested in taking this seriously . . . .” He leaned down to plant a tender kiss against her lips. “I am DEFINITELY interested.”

“What happens if we can’t . . . ?”

“If we can’t, then we can’t. There are plenty of other ways to gain satisfaction. But for what it’s worth? I’m certain it won’t be a problem. Eventually.”

She smirked up at him. “You have a plan?”

“I do.”

He was waiting in her quarters again that evening when she finally headed to bed. All thoughts of sleep left her the instant she saw him. Instead, she walked over to him, letting him pull her across his lap. His fingers brushed across the stubble on the side of her head, and a smile spread gently across his face.

“You really are beautiful.”

She took his face in her hands, placing soft pecks against his lips, then his cheeks, and he leaned to press his forehead to hers. There was something about her that made him so soft inside, a warmth that spread within and had nothing to do with sex or arousal.

“Tonight,” he whispered, making her shiver with dark anticipation, “we are gonna start on loosening you up a little.”

He undressed her slowly, trailing kisses along the skin as it was exposed to him. When she was naked, he ordered her to lay on the bed, then placed a vial of oil on the nightstand. He stripped as well, then climbed into bed beside her.

“I’ve wanted to do this since that night I helped you bathe.” He rolled her to her stomach, then poured some oil onto his hands, rubbing them together to warm it. “I only wish I’d told you then.”

He leaned to place a kiss in the small of her back, then began spreading the oil across her in long strokes, following the lines of her muscles. His deft fingers found her knots, making her groan as he worked them out.

“You know, when you said you were going to loosen me up, this isn’t what I thought you had in mind.”

“Shh. All in good time.”

His hands moved in a slow and steady rhythm, until he’d worked his way up to the top of her neck. Then he shifted, moving to start at her feet. His large palms caressed her calves, fingers moving slowly up the backs of her thighs before his thumbs began tracing inward. Despite his chaste, seemingly innocent massage, she felt herself growing wet.

“Now,” he said in a velvet growl. “Roll over.”

She obeyed, watching as he positioned himself between her legs. Her thighs rested on top of his, the whole of his thick, proudly standing cock in full view. Yet he made no move beyond pouring out more oil, rubbing it across her shins. He lifted one leg, propping her heel on his shoulder and kissing her ankle before caressing his way up, rubbing the oil in up to her thighs. A quick glance down told him that her mind was already on other things, and he couldn’t help but smirk a bit as he moved to her other leg. 

She watched him, eyes steady except for the occasional fluttering of her lashes as he hit a spot that felt particularly good. When his hands slipped beneath her, cupping her ass and lifting her hips gently, she let him move her as he wished, her body limp in his hands as he scooted closer to her. His pelvis was nearly pressed against hers, the heat of his arousal driving her own higher as his fingers trailed over her hips and his palms stroked across her ribs. Wherever this went, whatever happened, it was something she would remember for a long, long time.

Once again, he paused for more oil, this time placing his hands on her shoulders. He pulled them downward, slowly, dragging them across her breasts and increasing the pressure as he moved towards her hips. Then he slid them up again, but this time, when he reached her breasts he cupped them, palms circling in a slow massage that made her groan in pleasure.

“The most important thing,” he purred as he began toying with her nipples, “is that you are completely relaxed. Otherwise, your body will resist.”

His hands slid down again, across her hips, his thumbs resting at the junction of her thighs. She was beyond beautiful, her dark skin glistening with the oil, chest rising and falling in a stuttered pattern that gave away her arousal. He started circling his thumbs, tugging gently at the skin as they moved up and down, lower each time, until every time he paused at the lowest point he heard her give a soft gasp or quiet moan, wanting just a bit more. When his giant hand cupped her mound, the heel of his palm pressing against her opening, he heard her moan eagerly.

“Alright.”

Placing one hand across her hips, he turned the other so that his pinkie finger rested against the top of her slit. He drug it down slowly, taking in the way she felt against him, her wet heat enveloping him as he moved lower. When it lay resting against her opening, he breathed out slowly.

“If you feel any pain, any discomfort, I want you to tell me. Don’t push through, don’t assume it will get better. Understand?”

She nodded, and then felt a rush of pleasure as the tip of his finger slipped inside of her. He pulled it out slightly, then pushed it back in, again and again. Each time, he went a bit farther, until it was as deep as it would go. After he pumped it inside of her a few times, he curled it against her front wall, making her jump at the sudden blissful feeling it drew. Once again, he smirked.

“That was easy. Any pain? Pressure?”

She shook her head.

“Good. Now, let’s move forward.”

He withdrew, making her bite her lip at the sudden loss. That is, until she felt another finger pushing inside of her, this time larger. Instinctively, her hips jerked upward, and he pulled away.

“Hey, easy. If we don’t take things nice and slow, you could do some damage that will make this take MUCH longer.”

He repeated the same process again, only this time, as he reached the second knuckle, he felt more resistance, and heard her soft grunt of pain. With his free hand, he grabbed the oil, pulling his finger out and coating it carefully. He also poured a bit extra into his palm, which he dipped his finger in and then massaged around her opening.

“One more time. Now, relax, and breathe out slowly.”

She did as he asked, and felt his finger slipping inside of her once more, this time gently tugging at her opening as he moved inside of her. When he reached the second knuckle, he kept going, until he was fully hilted inside of her. He cooed sweet words as he began gently thrusting his finger, telling her how good she was doing, how fantastic she looked, and how incredible she was going to feel around him when she could finally take him in. His fingers were as talented as ever, curling inside of her to stroke the same sweet spot he had before, his thumb resting on her clit at the same time. Before long, she was panting, gasping, and moaning, her hips bucking up to meet him. 

“Damn. Turns me on so much to see you like this,” he growled as his hand moved faster and she began tossing her head back and forth. “Think I could get off just watching you.”

She made to laugh, but suddenly it turned into a series of desperate gasping cries. Her eyes flew wide as her back arched, and as he looked on, she screamed his name, clear fluid spurting from between her legs. Still, his fingers pumped, until her cries quieted and her body fell limp against the bed. A deep rumbling moan sounded from within his chest.

“A squirter, huh? Fuck, that’s hot as hell.”

She slapped at his chest weakly as he moved to lay beside her, propping on his elbow. His other hand ran leisurely over her body, memorizing its form, and the way her skin felt beneath his palm. She made no motion to stop him, utterly content with his attentions. He had to admit, this was nice. Having someone to lay beside, to admire and touch gave him a sense of stability.

Before long she rolled into his chest, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him. 

“You keep giving me all of this attention, yet you take none for yourself.”

He shrugged. “I’m alright. I told you, this is all about you.”

Her hand slipped down the surface of his chest, reaching for the patch of rough curls she knew lay below.

“What if it’s what I want? To give you attention? What if that’s what pleases me?”

“You’re sure?” 

He raised an eyebrow, and she nodded.

“Tell me what you want me to do. I know you won’t ask for what I can’t give.”

Her silver eyes flashed beneath trembling eyelashes, sending his heart racing with desire. She meant every word she said, he had no doubts about that.

“Okay,” he growled, sitting on the edge of the bed, “on your knees.”


	6. To Serve

The harshness of his tone sent chills running through her body as she kneeled before him on the cold stone floor. There was a safety in the way his legs spread around her, a feeling of protection and security, even as he took her face in his hands to tilt it towards him. He kissed her harshly, deeply, pulling away just as she began to melt into it.

“Hands on my thighs. Here.” He placed them where he wanted them, then thrust his hips forward slightly. “What do you see in front of you?”

“Your beautiful cock.”

He wrapped her braid around his hand, tugging just hard enough to sting.

“You can do better than that. Tell me how it looks to you, what it makes you feel. Tell me what you want to do to it.”

“It’s positively massive. The largest that I’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing.” She licked her lips hurriedly. “So thick, covered in sensitive veins I want to run my tongue along, from base to tip. I want to lap against that monstrously gorgeous slit, catch every drop of your pleasure.” She met his eyes as she continued, voice thick with heat, “I want to take you into my mouth, I want to suck you until you’re throbbing with arousal, your pulse beating against the back of my throat. And then, then I want you to throw me onto my back, put your great hulking weight on my body, and I want you to fuck me. Fuck me until I cannot walk, until that immense cock of yours nearly splits me in two.”

He sighed heavily, desire rasping in his throat, as he wrapped a hand around himself. While she looked on, he slowly pumped his length, squeezing to draw as much clear fluid up as he could, until it began dripping down his shaft. Her eyes wide, she began leaning forward with her tongue outstretched, craving its taste, but found herself held back. Her eyes darted to his face.

“Not until I say.”

He placed one hand over hers, pulling it down and between his legs to cup it around his balls. They too were enormous, with just one being nearly large enough to fill her hand. When he moved his hand away, she lifted them slightly, letting their weight rest in her hand. 

The Iron Bull was an apt name in MANY ways.

Gently, she squeezed, drawing them down slightly as she released, and he groaned loudly.

“That’s good,” he moaned, letting his head fall backwards.

She kept the motion up until he reached for her other hand, placing it at the base of his cock.

“Stroke,” he ordered.

He was so large her fingers didn’t even touch as she began moving up and down his length, matching the rhythm of her other hand, yet he seemed to be enjoying it plenty. Soon there was a continuous rumbling from his chest. He looked down, meeting her eyes, as she slowly leaned forward. When he didn’t object, she put her hands on his thighs and used the tip of her tongue to trace the line of him, swirling it quickly around his tip. His hips jerked forward slightly, and he reached down to pull both of her hands to the base of his cock. As she stroked him languidly, her grip perfectly firm, she began lapping up the sweetness of his drip.

Before long, she’d pulled his foreskin down to reveal the deep purple head, which she wrapped her lips around. Though he was far too large to suck comfortably for very long, she did her best, working slowly down his length until her eyes watered with the delicious pressure at the back of her throat. All the while, her hands moved up and down his length, and he groaned above her. He was losing himself, letting her have more control than he intended, but her mouth and hands felt so damn good around him he could hardly stand it. Especially with her moaning the way she was, looking up at him with such absolute desire. His brave, strong warrior woman, giving everything to him.

And she was good at it, at teasing out the subtle pleasures, pushing every button, making him lose control. Him, The Iron Bull, master of himself, his emotions, and his body, and she had him positively weak. Heat was building fast inside of him, flaring in his nerves, setting his skin on fire. Suddenly he grabbed her hair again, jerking her backwards. In one swift motion, he lifted her, tossing her over his lap and onto the bed. As he rolled her to her side, he pressed his cock between her thighs, growling in her ear.

“Cross your legs. Squeeze tight.”

She did as he told her, and the next thing she knew, he’d rolled her to her stomach and his hips were slamming into her ass relentlessly. The oil combined with their arousal meant it was slick and hot between her legs, his hard length rubbing against her already sensitive clit. In no time at all, she was screaming his name again, his pants and grunts behind her growing more urgent all the while. He cursed under his breath, murmuring harsh words in Qunlat as he moved faster, teeth against her skin. His fingers held her wrists in a bruising grip as he spilled between her thighs, her hand at the back of his neck. When he collapsed onto the bed, she followed him, rolling to lie across his chest with a blissful smile on her lips. Tenderly, he stroked her hair.

“Damn, that was . . . .”

“Yes, it was,” she sighed.

Never before had he felt such a sense of peace, of rightness. When he was with her, it was as if, for a moment, the rest of the world had gone away. He’d told himself that this was for her- and it was. He just hadn’t realized it would give him the same calm he was gifting her.

“I want to sleep in your arms every night.”

Her words startled him.

“Might raise a few eyebrows.”

“To hell with that. I love you.”

His body stiffened beneath her. “Don’t throw those words around.”

“I’m not. Bull, I’ve lived a long life. I know what I feel.”

He pushed himself to a sitting position, resting his elbows on his knees. For a long time, he was quiet. When he spoke again, his voice was low and sad.

“What if I don’t feel the same way? What if I CAN’T?” He looked up to see her brow furrowed. “I told you- Qunari don’t have romantic relationships. We have sex to fulfill a biological need, like scratching an itch. We breed when we’re told to, with who we’re told to, and that’s it. Under the Qun, anything else isn’t even allowed. Technically, this conversation alone could be punished. Growing up like that- how can someone even know to love romantically?”

She sighed, crawling into his lap and wrapping her legs around his waist. When she took his face in her hands, his eyes met hers, and she saw fear for the first time.

“Bull, do you care for me? About what happens to me, if I’m injured or missing?”

“Of course I do. At Haven, when you-“

“And if I died, tomorrow, how would you feel?”

He wrapped his arms around her waist. “Don’t. Don’t talk like that. I’m not . . . I couldn’t . . . .”

“But you feel that way because I hired you to protect me, right? And when you slept with others, it felt the same as what we just did?”

“Absolutely not. This was-“

“Different.”

She leaned in, kissing him tenderly. Their tongues brushed gently against one another, the softness of her hands gliding across his skin. When they broke apart, he felt almost as if he couldn’t breathe. Her fingers traced his eyebrows, smoothing them.

“Love has its own ideas about where it will go. You yourself said Qunari love their friends, so you know something about it. Well, I am your friend, always. You just happen to be my bodyguard as well, and we have sex. Consider it . . . remarkably efficient.”

He chuckled as her forehead met his.

“I love you, and that is enough for me. If you can love me in return, then I will consider it a bonus.”

He cupped her face in his hands, letting his fingers trail up the backs of her ears. As he reached the narrow tips, she drew in a sharp breath.

“My ears are . . . sensitive.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he murmured, pulling her into another long kiss. When he was done, he hummed thoughtfully. “You know, we may not have marriage, but there is this . . . I don’t know- ceremony I guess. When two Qunari feel strongly for each other, one will go out and get a dragon’s tooth. They split it in two, and each take half so that, wherever they go, they will always remain connected.”

“Sounds romantic.”

“Oh yeah- fighting a dragon, splitting one of the hardest things known to man, making jewelry- it’s pretty hot.”

She moaned happily against his lips as she kissed him again, then laid down beside him.

“And that,” she sighed, “is something that I will keep in mind.”

With her body against his, the silk of her flesh warm against his own, he thought for few moments that, just maybe, this was all it would take for him to find happiness. Real, lasting happiness that followed him for the rest of his life. To forget the Ben-Hassrath, forget the Qun, and just remain by her side. An impossibility, of course. That would mean becoming Tal-Vashoth, an outcast, hunted. It would endanger them both. Whatever she said, whatever she felt, he didn’t want that. If she lost her life because of him, he couldn’t live with himself.

But he couldn’t live without her, either.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. He was the spy, the mercenary, cold and calculating. His job was to keep the Qun informed of what was happening with the breach, his loyalty was, unquestionably, to belong to them, and no one else. He was good at it, he was PROUD of it. Or he had been. Now, for the first time in his life, he wondered what it might have been like to grow up outside of the Qun. Not Tal-Vashoth, not traitor, but simply to have never lived it in the first place. How would the words she’d said have made him feel? Still anxious, a knot in his chest, a great trembling fear that he could never feel what she deserved him to feel? Or would those words have rolled as easily from his tongue, giving over to the happiness he felt inside?

Whatever it was, he needed to figure it out. The Qun had asked for a meeting, to consider an alliance with the Inquisition. A real alliance, something they’d never done before. Thanks to him, and to her plain speaking, her openness to their ways. But there were still lines that might need to be drawn, and ones that certainly would, eventually, even if things went well. Sooner or later, he would have to choose. And he felt like an absolute ass at the idea of leaving either one. The Tamassrins had made him who he was, they’d sculpted and molded him into the man she said she loved. Yet to be with her would mean turning his back on them, on everything he’d been taught. And if he was willing to do that, was he really the man she loved?


	7. Bittersweet Demands

“I’ve never met another Qunari, Bull.”

He glanced at the Inquisitor out of the corner of his eye. “You’re not likely to meet one now, either. They usually send . . . other operatives. People better at sneaking in and out, watching the people they’re meeting with before they’re noticed.”

“Like me.”

A small figure stepped out from behind a thicket nearby, with wild brown hair and a smirk that gave him an air if smug superiority.

“Good to see you, Hissrad.”

“GATT!” Bull threw out his arms before turning to face the Inquisitor again. “This is Gatt, he was with me in Seheron.”

The man nodded. “Good to meet you. Can’t say I expected to see one of my kind running the Inquisition. Thought everyone but the Qun hated elves. Then again, you’re hardly an elf, are you? Not with your build.”

“Gatt!” Bull hissed in warning, but she paid the comment no mind, as usual. Instead, she turned to Bull.

“Hissrad?”

“Titles, not names, remember? Since I was in spying, they called me ‘Hissrad’. Like . . . ‘keeper of illusions’, or-“

“Liar,” Gatt proclaimed, smirking again. “It means ‘liar’.”

Bull frowned, growling to hide the warmth he felt rising in his cheeks. “You don’t have to say it like THAT.”

She guffawed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Well, does Bull say nice things about me in his secret spy reports?”

Raising an eyebrow, Gatt replied. “He does.” There was a tone in his voice that gave Bull chills, making him wonder if he’d guessed that there was more between the two of them than Bull had let on. “But then, they’re not exactly ‘secret’ reports, are they?”

He glanced downward, where Bull’s hip was nearly pressed against the Inquisitor’s, and Bull cursed himself internally. He’d never let anyone that close to him in normal circumstances. Too easy to get a knife in that way. Yet here he was, practically hip to hip with her, in front of someone who knew him almost as well as he knew himself. A low growl rose in his throat, and Gatt threw up his hands.

“Relax, I know how it is out here, unlike our superiors.”

Then he turned, and the moment was gone. Gatt started talking about battle plans, positions, and approach, and Bull relaxed, letting himself believe, just for a few moments, that it could all work out okay. He had his men, he had his country, and he had his . . . Inquisitor.

He’d been a fucking idiot.

He’d sent Krem with the Chargers, down the beach. The easier path, he knew, and even Gatt had said as much. But he wasn’t going to send them into danger, not knowingly. He had the tougher end, but he was GOOD, and, anyway, he had Gatt, and he had the Inquisitor. They could take out anything, he’d bet. The Inquisitor took half of them out by herself in the first thirty seconds, making Gatt laugh like a maniac, even with blood splashed across his face. By the time they were all gone, he was in a fantastic mood, and, Bull had to admit, he was too. Almost good enough to pull that elven goddess of his into a passionate kiss right in front of Gatt, just to show off. Almost.

The Chargers had their area cleared too, he noticed with a wide grin as Gatt went about signaling the dreadnought. It pulled into view, bells clanging across the beach, and began attacking the ship. Everything was going just perfect. Until it wasn’t. 

A group of Venatori Mages appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and began stalking toward the Chargers. They were armed, and they were endless. Bull felt a lump forming in his throat. He glanced toward the Chargers, swords up, ready to fight. Ready to die. For him.

Shit.

“Bull . . ,” the Inquisitor murmured under her breath. “Bull, there’s a LOT of them.”

He frowned. “Yeah.”

“There’s still time . . . you can call a retreat.”

Gatt jumped in front of him. “You do that, you’re throwing away an alliance with the Qun.”

Bull’s eye met Gatt’s, his gaze cold. “If I don’t, they’re dead.”

“You’ll be declaring yourself Tal-Vashoth,” Gatt warned. “With the way you’re dug into the Inquisition, half of the Ben-Hassrath think you’ve betrayed us already. They-“ he stopped, gritting his teeth in anger. “There’s no going back from this. You’ll throw away a lifetime of work, for them?”

Bull leaned down, nose almost touching Gatt’s. To his credit, he stared back up at him, unflinching.

“They’re my MEN.”

“Please, Hissrad. Do what’s right. For the alliance, and for the Qun.”

Bull looked at the Inquisitor, pain in his eyes. It was all too easy for her to see the pain this was causing him. He knew what he wanted to do, what was right. But he needed someone to tell him it was okay. He needed to know that she would still feel the same way about him if he did.

She shook her head. “Call the retreat.”

He blew the horn, and she watched Gatt circle, ready to tear his hair out.

“All these years, and you throw away EVERYTHING that you are! For this? Them?” He gestured towards the Chargers, now falling back to safety. “For HER? Hissrad, I’m begging you-“

Bull moved to lunge at him, but she held him back with a palm in the center of his chest, stepping in front of him as she snarled down at Gatt.

“His name,” she parsed, “is Iron Bull.”

Gatt sneered up at her, then spat out, “I suppose it is.”

They watched him disappear into the distance together, Bull’s shoulders slumped in defeat. Moments later, a great crashing came from behind them as the dreadnought exploded, martyring itself instead of being destroyed by the Venatori. As Bull sighed, she slipped her hand in his.

“Come on,” she whispered, “let’s go see to your boys.”

They saw Gatt one more time a few days later, when he came to formally announce there would be no alliance. After taking a minute to rub salt in Bull’s wounds, he disappeared, and Bull, for once, was glad to see the back of him. The fact that he was Tal-Vashoth, considered a traitor to his people, was still sinking in. It was an empty feeling, devoid of the bitterness he’d expected. He’d been so well-trained, he couldn’t even hate them for doing it. They were just looking after themselves, not unlike he’d looked after his men.

The Inquisitor was about to open her mouth when Krem came up, calling after Bull. When he saw her, he nodded.

“Inquisitor.”

“The Chargers alright?”

He nodded. “Had plenty of time to fall back, thanks to you and the chief. Knew you’d have our backs.” He chuckled. “Chief’s even gonna break open a cask of Chasind Sack Mead for us tonight.”

Bull growled, much to the Inquisitor’s amusement. “Dammit! That’s the kind of thing you don’t have to mention in front of her!”

They watched Krem slink away, a sly smirk on his face. When he was out of sight, Bull felt her hand, warm on his arm as she leaned into him. She placed a soft kiss beside his ear, then rested her chin on his shoulder.

“I’m proud of you, Bull. You took this well.”

Chuckling, he shook his head, then turned to face her. As he cupped her face in his hands, he let his fingers run lightly over the tips of her ears, drawing a subtle shiver of pleasure. 

“Let’s just say I know where I belong.” He smiled, a warm, genuine smile that made him look more relaxed than he’d been in ages. “I’m not gonna lie, being cut off? Hurts like hell, and I know it hasn’t really hit me yet. But I’ve got a good thing here, and I’m not gonna throw it away.”

His large hands wrapped around her waist as he pulled her into a kiss, savoring the taste of her lips, the feeling of her tongue against his. Her hands spread across his chest, until, finally, they broke apart, and she looked at him with one eyebrow raised.

“Let’s get to my quarters. I’ve a feeling we BOTH could use a little loosening up . . . .”

As he trailed behind her, he shook his head, laughing at himself. In that moment, he’d never been more certain that he made the right choice. He’d follow that perfect ass anywhere.

Later that night, they lay tangled together in the bed, her leg thrown lazily across his. That afternoon had been amazing, as usual, even if things hadn’t quite progressed as far as they might have liked. Still, they had their satisfaction, and Bull was beginning to really enjoy her . . . creativity when it came to getting him off. And she never hesitated, no matter what he asked of her. She trusted him, completely.

He looked down at her, tucked securely under his arm, and sighed happily. Perfect, that’s all he could think of whenever he looked at her. She was perfect. Her lithe, strong body, long hair trailing down her back. Her cunning, her kindness, like she’d never known meanness in her life. She drew out the best in him, more than the Tamassrans ever had. She lead him to be himself, when he’d never even known who that was.

Maybe, just maybe, Qunari can fall in love after all.

A few days later, she was waiting for him on the ramparts, where he’d asked to meet her. He’d barely come into view before two men, dressed as Inquisition guards, jumped on him, one slicing him with a knife. She ran towards him, calling his name, but before she reached him he’d disposed of them both. He looked over at her, seeming almost embarrassed.

“Sorry. Thought I might need help.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “You, knew they were coming?”

“Of course. They were never gonna let me go, not without making sure I know there’s no turning back.”

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah. This wasn’t a challenge, just a formality. Let it go.”

She reached for the gash on his chest, and he jerked quickly away.

“Bull, you need that treated,” she frowned.

“I know. But YOU aren’t gonna touch it. The blade was poisoned. I’ve been dosing myself with the antidote, so I’ll handle it. Don’t worry about it.” He sighed heavily, shaking his head. “Killed hundreds of Tal-Vashoth in Seheron. Now I AM one.”

“Reality settling in?”

“Guess so. Boss, how many of those guys were like me? Looking after someone they cared about, just doing what they thought was right? I’ve got their blood on my hands.”

“You did what you felt was right at the time. And you’re a good man, Bull. Intention counts for something.”

“Yeah, but now I’m cut loose, no code, no rules. I feel . . . I don’t know. Exposed, maybe. Raw.”

“You made your own rules anyway. And I like your moral code better than the Qun’s. The men on the dreadnought CHOSE to die. The Chargers didn’t. You’ll always have a home here, as far as I’m concerned. And you’ll always be welcome by my side.”

She turned to leave, but he called out to her just as she reached the stairs.

“I just want you to know, Boss- whatever happens, whatever I might regret, none of it has anything to do with you. Here, with you, is exactly where I want to be.”

With a smile, she turned and disappeared from his sight, leaving a warmth growing in his chest, one he was only just beginning to understand.


	8. Orlesian Outcasts

With his arms crossed tightly over his chest, Bull stood by stiffly, waiting for them to announce the Inquisitor. This false niceness, political bullshit dressed in fancy clothes was something he always hated, and he always would. But she needed him. They made as good of a team on the battlefield as they did in bed, so much so that sometimes the lines got blurred, but never beyond the borders they’d drawn. Comfort, care, consent. Without those, their relationship was nothing, wherever it traveled.

While the others filed out, one at a time, he eyed the room. Picking out the power players was nothing, easy work for a former spy. The real amusement was in spotting the ones who thought they were players, who squirmed and pushed their way through the ranks to sit at the top of the heap. They’d topple soon enough, done in by someone who knew what they were doing, or another one just like them, replacing them only to be replaced themselves.

Suddenly he heard her name, and his eyes fell upon the spot she’d emerge from. Three seconds later, his jaw was on the floor, and his cock was stiffening inside the tight velvet trousers.

She was wrapped in layers of sheer, filmy fabric, in shades of orange and red only slightly muted by the occasional layer of grey, a stark contrast against her dark skin. It was bound across one shoulder, tightened around her waist, and was not quite thick enough to hide the curves of her breasts beneath it. A deep slit parted the fabric, exposing her leg to the thigh with every single stride, her gait casual, yet purposeful, her broad shoulders swaying lightly as she moved. Everything about her said she was a woman to pay attention to.

And she was wearing heels. Sharp stilettos that tapped across the floor, demanding attention, and had Bull wondering if he could convince her to wear those and nothing else the next time they got together. He’d let her walk all over him in those damn things, and probably thank her afterward. Add to that the fact that she wore her scars like jewels, unashamed, and he was completely done in. 

It was agony to watch her working through the crowd, making small talk and prodding for information oh so subtly. Especially when the men who’d just moments ago been insulting her couldn’t tear their eyes from her form. Not that he could blame them. The closer she got, the easier it was to tell just how sheer the dress was, and the more his mouth watered.

When she finally made her way over to him, he played it utterly cool, as he always did. A few offhand comments, maybe a subtle flirt here and there. He was watching her, and, moreover, she knew he was watching her, and that was enough. She knew him well enough to understand that the way he looked at her meant he had plans for her later, just as he knew that her chilly demeanor meant she’d be extra submissive. This was a night of high stakes, and she would need relief now more than ever before.

“Tell me what I need to know.”

It was a simple statement, half whispered in his ear as she slipped away with him into a darkened corner, but it made shivers rise along his skin. She trusted him, like she trusted herself. He was realizing more and more that he needed that utter faith in him, now that he’d lost the Qun. Everything he’d thought gave him meaning had been ripped from him, and he felt lost for the first time, empty and broken. But not with her. She didn’t see of him as a tool, only a means to an end, she saw him as something whole and fulfilling and meaningful, all on his own. 

Like now. He’d given her a full rundown of the people to watch, the corners to eavesdrop in, and the locations where they could slip out unnoticed to carry out their mission. That was his job, he knew, and he’d done it without hesitation. But then, she’d stopped, looking into his face and frowning.

“What is it, Bull?”

“It’s . . ,” he stopped himself short. This wasn’t the time. “It’s nothing, boss.”

She raised an eyebrow, placing a gentle hand on his arm and giving him squeeze of warning. Damn her, she knew him too well, sometimes.

“Some of the nobles keep messing with me . . . and they think I don’t know they’re doing it,” he confessed. “And I’ve heard references to ‘the rabbit and the ox’ more times than I care to count. I don’t mind them insulting me, but-“

“I do,” she said firmly. “I’m a guest of the Empress, and you are my companion. I won’t have you disrespected.”

“It’s really not that big of a deal, boss . . . .”

“Yes it is,” she insisted. “Come with me.”

She slipped her arm through his and threw her shoulders back proudly. With her heels, their height was almost even, the two of them towering above everyone else as she marched him theatrically around the room. She stopped at every important person in attendance, making elegant conversation and being certain to introduce him as her consort- and her lover, in one particularly notable conversation, when a gentleman had been a bit too insistent about calling him her bodyguard and servant. Then she’d leaned against him affectionately, and he’d followed her cue by making a big show of kissing her hand, with their fingers twined together. 

Most of the nobles there probably didn’t exactly love their relationship, but they certainly respected it, by the time she was done. She’d let them know, in no uncertain terms, that he was a part of her life and should be treated with the same courtesy she was. He, on the other hand, had told them that if they tried messing with her, they would have to deal with him. And both of them had surprised everyone by being eloquent and articulate, instead of the clumsy ‘savages’ they’d expected.

Then, there was the fighting, once they’d gotten into the thick of the investigation. It was GOOD. Orlesian politics might have bored the hell out of him, but he could get behind smashing a few demons’ heads and taking out a would-be assassin. And, damn, had she looked good doing it. The brutality of the warrior had risen to meet the elegance of the dancer he’d seen on the floor with Florianne, creating something incredible. And it was all his.

By the time everything was over, he’d been aching to get her alone for hours. Unfortunately, it had taken some extra time to sort out the sleeping arrangements, since the bed they’d given the Inquisitor was upholstered in delicate silks with sheer netting surrounding it. She took one look and immediately left, explaining that there was no possible way Bull would be able to keep from destroying it. In the end, they’d had to trade with Cullen. Both the room and bed were smaller, but it was at least stone and sturdy wood.

As soon as the door was closed and locked, Bull pounced on her, pinning her to the wall with his arms boxing her in. She raised a curious eyebrow, but the smirk on her lips gave away the fact that she’d been expecting something like this.

“I’m so damn proud of you. You did great out there today.” His face was buried in her neck, lips ghosting across her skin as he spoke. “Showed them all what you’re made of. And the way you showed me off . . . .”

He leaned back, suddenly serious, and she cupped his face in her hands tenderly.

“I’m . . ,” he hesitated, touching his forehead to hers before continuing. “I’m not used to that. To someone being proud to be with me. Usually, if it lasts more than a night or two, I’m more like a dirty secret, or maybe a novelty. Something they can whisper about to their friends, brag about how they’ve ‘rode the Iron Bull’ and lived to tell the tale. A scandal. But not with you.”

As his eye met hers, he felt a dangerous swooping sensation deep inside, and suddenly the warmth and tightness within him was in his chest, instead of between his legs.

“Of course I’m proud of you,” she whispered, and her thumb traced over his scars. “Look at you, Bull. You’re strong, and handsome, and . . ,” she lifted his eyepatch, and he flinched slightly as her fingers delicately explored the area where his eye had been, “you’re so kind and caring. You sacrifice for others.” 

She kissed the empty socket, removing the patch completely and leaving him feeling raw and exposed. If he’d had to march naked in front of the entire party earlier, he’d have felt less vulnerable than he did right then, with her staring at him. To cover the awkwardness, he lifted her in his arms, carrying her to the bed and laying her down. She laughed lightly, that beautiful laugh that made his insides squirm, and he positioned his body over hers. She only resumed tracing his scars, kissing them when she could reach, until he grabbed hold of her wrists. Once he had them pinned above her head, he began drenching her throat in kisses. Words of praise cascaded from his mouth as he tried to push away the nagging feeling welling inside of him, hot and tight in his chest. But even as she moaned and writhed beneath him, he knew he couldn’t avoid it. Sooner or later, it would come out, and it was better that it come in the quiet intimacy of moments like this than out among others.

He stopped, letting her wrists go to stare down at her. His face was utterly serious, and tender in a way she’d never seen before as he leaned to kiss her. When he pulled away, she took his face in her hands again.

“What, Bull? What is it?”

His heart was in his throat, blood pounding through his veins. He couldn’t look at her, not now, not with this. Instead, he pressed his face against her cheek to whisper in her ear.

“I love you.”

He was crying, and he didn’t know why, because she was looking at him like she was seeing him for the first time, and he was beautiful. But then she was crying too, soft sobs that shook her body beneath him as she kissed him, hard, passionate, but soft, too, and he returned them to her only to get them again. She held him so tightly that he wasn’t sure where he ended and she began, but that was okay, because he loved her, and she loved him, and he was never, ever going to let her go.


End file.
